Chapter Nine: In and Out of Line
As I arrived at the firm a week later, I was already dragging my feet at the notion that Nicholas and I had already began our work again on the Farris case. The notion of being in the same room with him, after what he'd said about me to Josh at Charlotte's funeral had pushed me. I was, however, thankful that the breaking point hadn't been reached, and all I wanted to do was air on the side of professionalism. Needless to say, Josh and I had hit a stumbling block, and his texts to me, constantly apologizing for his behavior, weren't helping matters.
I slipped into my office quickly, wanting to at least attempt to focus on my preliminary notes, in preparation for my meeting with Nicholas later that day. Focusing wasn't happening, due to my monologue of inner torment, and all I could think about was Nicholas, just on the other side of my wall, and what had driven him to those comments. The fact that they were, word for word, what I'd said to Josh on the day that Josh asked me to be his girlfriend, unsettled me, and I wondered then if Nicholas had followed me, or if it was just a coincidence. Even still, I did begin to wonder if they'd hurt him at the time he'd heard them, but I hastily pushed the thought from my mind—they couldn't have hurt them, because, clearly, I was nothing to him.
Just an hour before Nicholas and I were due to meet, I saw on my office phone that Rachel was calling me. I felt my teeth gritting automatically, wondering if I'd even asked her to hold all my calls, which is what I usually did whenever I was working on something pressing. Nevertheless, I reached out and picked up the phone, not wanting to see rude to her, because she hadn't ever done anything...not really.
"Rachel?" I said, keeping my tone neutral.
"Sorry to bother you, Murphy," she said carefully. "But there's someone here to see you, and he's got flowers—red roses, your favorite."
"Is it my brother?" I asked, wondering if Lip had lost his senses again.
"No, he's not a member of your family," Rachel replied.
That narrows it down, I thought to myself. "All right, Rachel. Who is it?"
"Your boyfriend," Rachel replied. "He says he's your boyfriend, Josh."
I sighed. "All right, he can come back," I said, although it was truly against my better judgement as I go to my feet, hanging up the phone as I smoothed my suit. I made my way over to the door, opening it just as Josh rounded the corner. "Come on in," I said, allowing him inside.
"Wow, your office is amazing," he said, looking around.
"You had flowers delivered here," I said quietly.
"Yes—the key word being 'delivered'," Josh said as I shut the door. "I've never actually seen the place," he went on, nervously holding the flowers, in yet another crystal-cut vase. "I got these for you," he said awkwardly.
I sighed, crossing towards him. "Thanks," I replied, my tone clipped, taking them and placing them upon a shelf. "How can I help you today, Josh? Need legal advice?"
Josh sighed. "No," he replied, "nothing like that. I just came here to apologize, face to face. I seem to recall my texts not working."
I crossed my arms. "Well, that's because they're just words on a screen," I replied. "The problem with modern technology is the notion that one could apply any tone to the words they're reading, and their meanings could be taken in so many different ways. Sure, you say you're sorry, but I don't know if you mean it sincerely or sarcastically."
Josh nodded, fully absorbing my words. "I can understand that," he said quietly. "I'm sorry, Murphy, for the way I acted at the funeral. It was a huge overreaction, and it'll never happen again. I promise."
I nodded. "Well, your comments were pretty hurtful," I replied. "And the biggest thing was that you were treating me like you owned me. This isn't the Dark Ages anymore, Josh, and you've got to understand that if we're going to be together, this has got to be an equal partnership. Plus, I have Iana to consider, and she comes first. Always."
"I know I was out of line, completely," he said softly. "Just the notion of you hugging that son of a bitch, Murphy, it set me off."
"Don't call him that!" I burst out because I could stop myself, and Josh looked surprised. "He's a very good attorney, Josh, and, once you get to know him, he has the capability of being a pretty stand-up guy. Just, let this feud die," I said quietly, "because, for the foreseeable future, Nicholas and I are going to be working together, and if you can't handle that, then walk out of this office and don't come back."
Josh gave a stiff nod then. "Well, normally I'd say we're at an impasse, Murphy, but I think if we can agree to keep most work things separate from our relationship, then I think I can accept you standing up for Nicholas."
I returned his nod. "Sounds like a plan," I replied.
"Hey, Murph!" said Nicholas then, pushing open my office door, and looking slightly surprised at seeing Josh there. "Oh. Hey, man," he said.
"Hey, Nicholas," Josh said, turning to me. "I'll call you later, then?"
I nodded. "Sounds good," I replied.
Josh then hesitated for a moment, before crossing the room towards me and yanking me towards him, kissing me on the mouth. He didn't register my discomfort in the motion, or he likely just didn't care, and then he released me. "I'll see you soon," he said, his eyes gleaming in a moment of triumph as he walked out of my office door.
Nicholas sighed. "Really?"
I sighed, pulling out my phone and putting it onto camera mode, relieved that Josh hadn't ruined my lip gloss—only my pride. "What?" I demanded, impatient.
"He's your fucking boyfriend, Murphy—and you hate it when he kisses you?"
I glared at Nicholas, feeling the rage ebb through me. "Shut the fuck up," I replied, crossing back to my desk and retrieving my notes for the case. "Absolutely none of this is any of your business, Nicholas, considering how fucked a person I am," I said, shoving past him and making my way to the conference room.
. . .
Nicholas and I made excellent headway in the Farris case, considering we weren't speaking about anything else, and by the first week of March, opening arguments had begun. Josh and I had also mended fences, and I'd like to say that things were looking up, were it not for the notion that I still felt nothing whenever he touched me, kissed me, or when we had sex. I did my best to play the part of a doctor's girlfriend, really I did, but even I thought that I was forcing things, and as much as I wanted to heed Ian's advice and attempt to break things off, the overwhelming notion that Nicholas didn't care about me continued to fester in my mind, and so my relationship with Josh continued.
It was on the second of March that I tried to get in touch with Josh, to ask him about our date night that week—and the possibility of me staying the weekend—when his response caught me off guard. I was driving to pick up Iana from daycare and Liam from school, and the lukewarm Monday felt like a symbol of my life. As I looked over my text to him, I thought things seemed normal, but it was his reply that sent me into a tailspin.
Hey, Josh! Hope Monday is going well for you. I was wondering what you wanted to do this weekend, and if you just wanted to do a date night or a weekend sleepover. Let me know!
Hey, Murphy. Sorry I didn't say anything last weekend but I can't make any commitments this weekend, unfortunately. We're doing some training and bringing in some new doctors, and I said I'd work some doubles. Will let you know if anything changes. Call you later.
I felt perplexed at this brush off, but felt determined not to let it affect me as I arrived at Iana's daycare to pick her up. Slipping from my car, I walked up the stairs and into the building, smiling at Rebecca when I caught her eye and stepped into the room. I felt immediately at ease when Rebecca fetched Iana and handed her over, and the warmth that I felt when Iana put her arms around my neck comforted me more than anyone ever could. As Rebecca handed over Iana's bag, I awaited the daily report with excitement.
"Iana had a wonderful day," Rebecca said, reaching out and rubbing my daughter's back. "We had some lovely tummy time earlier, and she's crawling around excellently."
"Ooh, boy," I said, thankful that Ian and I had spent the entire previous weekend completely babyproofing the house, due to her home exploits. "Ian and I put up the safety gates over the weekend," I explained, "although Liam's annoyed with them."
Rebecca laughed. "Just make sure if he wants to jump over them to get downstairs, that he's careful about it."
I nodded. "Noted," I replied, putting Iana's bag in a more secure position on my shoulder. "And she ate okay today?"
"Yes—she absolutely adores the mashed peaches," Rebecca gushed. "They've really become her favorite, and I'm sure you keep them around the house."
I nodded. "Ever since my sister, Fiona, gave her some, we have," I affirmed. "I never liked peaches myself, so maybe it's a trait she picked up from her father..."
"You never mentioned her father," Rebecca said, not intrusively.
I let out a small laugh. "Yeah. It's a...touchy subject..."
"Touchy?"
I bit my lip, pressing my face into Iana's head, inhaling her natural baby smell, which was always a perfect antidote to ease the inner tension. "Yeah, he... Well, you know that my brother, Ian, is gay."
Rebecca nodded. "Yes, of course. You authorized that his boyfriend, Trevor, was okay to pick up Iana from here."
"Yeah, well," I said, knowing that the convoluted way in which I got pregnant with Iana was still tough for certain people to handle, "I didn't know that the Gallagher's were my family until I was twenty-one, after I moved here. I was adopted."
Rebecca smiled sympathetically. "Oh, I see."
"I was actually dating Lip—my older brother," I said, feeling uncomfortable mentioning it, but wanting things to be out in the open once and for all. "So, as I'm sure you can imagine, when I found out that he and I were... Well, I panicked."
Rebecca nodded. "Sounds reasonable. I can't imagine."
I laugh aloud then. "No, not many people can," I said quietly. "Anyhow, I ended up taking a few days off from work and driving down to Mexico to get out of my head for a while, without telling my family that they were my family, or where I'd gone. When I was down there, I met Iana's father, and that's when I got pregnant."
"But you brought up your brother, Ian," Rebecca said, circling back to the point at hand. "What does he have to do with you getting pregnant?"
"That. Well..." I rolled my shoulders, hoping the discomfort at the betrayal I'd still felt I'd committed would eventually go away. "Iana's father is actually Ian's ex," I said quietly. "He and this guy were together a real long time..."
"Oh," Rebecca said, raising her eyebrows.
"And he's...wanted," I said, clearing my throat awkwardly in the middle of the sentence. "That's why I don't want to talk about him. Due to his record."
"Ah, I see," Rebecca said, smiling at me. "Well, we've all got something, Murphy. I'm sure there are people out there that have it far worse."
I smiled. "I'm sure, too," I said, checking my phone. "Well, I've got to run and get Liam before he calls the police to report me missing."
Rebecca laughed. "We'll see you tomorrow, ladies."
"Thank you," I said, throwing Rebecca a smile as I walked out of there.
. . .
"Avoiding you?" Fiona asked as I sat across from her at Patsy's Pies, watching me as I drowned my sorrows in a slice of chocolate crème. "What do you mean?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe now that I said I'd be his girlfriend, and both Nicholas and I have confirmed that there's nothing between us... Maybe now he's lost interest. Now that the threat is gone and the excitement he felt leading up to him asking me to be his... Ugh," I said, spooning more pie into my mouth. "I have no idea..."
Fiona's brows knitted together. "He talking to you?"
I made a face. "Barely," I said, looking down at the slice of half-eaten pie. "Just a text every few hours or so."
"Does it bother you?"
I smirked. "Only that he's not communicating," I replied. "Ever since we've been exclusive, I've been loyal—really I have."
Fiona sighed. "I know you know we don't really do the whole security camera thing in here, but I'm still your sister, Murph."
I took another bite of the pie as she said this to me, giving her an odd expression. "What's your point?" I asked, my mouth half-full.
"I know there's no way in hell you could've made six pies and washed all those dishes in less than two hours," she said quietly.
I hunched my shoulders forward, watching Iana chew her mashed peaches from the corner of my eye, and wondered then if they were organic or not. "Yeah?" I said softly.
"My gut is telling me that you had someone around to help you. Someone that left a dish soap scent all over the apron you borrowed."
I locked my eyes with Fiona's then, my cheeks flaming. "Is that the owner talking, or my sister talking?" I asked her.
She sighed. "I'm both," she told me. "I don't mind if you had some help that night, Murphy—the kitchen was in excellent condition when I looked it over. All I'm asking is, are you really being as loyal as you think?"
I lowered my eyes. "I stopped it..."
Fiona leaned forward then, as if she could better catch my words. "What?"
"I stopped it...before it could get completely out of hand," I replied, staring down at my half-eaten piece of pie.
"With Nicholas?" Fiona asked.
I sighed. "Yes."
"Not that I'm complaining," she said gently, as I raised my eyes to hers, "but you usually go to Ian with situations like this. Why are you telling me? I thought it was a twin thing..."
"Because then I'd have to admit that Ian was right," I replied.
"Right about what?"
"Right about..." I gritted my teeth. "...my feelings towards Nicholas..."
Fiona grinned. "Wait. You have feelings for Nicholas?" she asked, looking back towards the kitchen for a moment before leaning towards me again. "Did you two...?"
"No!" I cried out. "We've only ever done it at the firm...and then after Charlotte died I went to check on him..."
"Wait. You went to his place?"
I sighed, placing my head into my hands. "Fuck. I fucking spent the night with the fucker," I moaned, slamming my head down upon the table, thankful that I saw Fiona's arm quickly move forward to swipe the pie out from under my head.
"Was it...good?"
"My sexual history has been as weird as you can think," I said to her, and sighed, picking my head up. "I mean, with Jessica, I never really knew—I never let her," I said, and lowered my eyes to my crotch, and Fiona nodded, understanding. "And with...Lip and Mickey, it was only the once, so I had nothing to compare it to. With Lip, I'd had a bad day, so I was pretty much consumed by that, so I barely remember it. And, with Mickey, I was drunk, so I hardly remember it happening at all..."
"How are things with Josh, in the bedroom?"
I scoffed. "He's too...tentative," I said, wrinkling my nose.
"Tentative?" Fiona asked, laughing.
"It's like he's afraid he's going to hurt me or something—I'm not a fragile creature! I'm durable, I guess," I said, shrugging. "And then he's always bringing the conversation back to Nicholas, and ever since he found out we've slept together, I think he wants to compete, but he only knows how to be gentle. I don't want gentle sex, Fiona, I don't. I want...passion..."
"You...like it rough?" she asked.
I shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know."
"How does Nicholas go about things?"
I flushed again, lowering my eyes. "Rough," I admitted.
"And you like it?"
I massaged my temples, disbelieving as to how we'd managed to go from Josh's complete lack of communication to how I enjoyed my trysts with Nicholas. "Best I've ever had," I said, my voice hollow, as I knew I didn't want to admit it completely.
"Are you just going to let that get taken away from you?" she asked.
I sighed, picking up my glass of water. "I've made my bed," I said, regret peppering my tone completely. "Now I've got to lie in it, don't I?"
. . .
I was in court for the rest of the week, and I had to admit, the legal team hired by the Farris family did an excellent job at painting Paul Farris as an outstanding citizen. Since Jackie Farris had agreed to testify against her father, and armed with various statements from local upstanding psychologists, it had been proven beyond a reasonable doubt that she had been manipulated by her father in a successful manner and, combated with the disturbing video evidence I'd found of the years of abuse, Jackie was found less culpable by the jury. She would be sent into a hospital for evaluation, and, once it was decided what the best course of action would be, she would be in therapy for the rest of her life. But, at last, she was free of her father, whom she had requested not visit her while she was getting treatment.
"Josh taking you out tonight?" Nicholas asked casually, after Judge Gresham—a close friend of Judge Whitmore—had left, followed by the jury, Paul Farris, and his legal team, had left the courtroom for the day. "It's Friday night."
I shook my head. "Likely not. He's busy with training," I replied, feeling awkward at making small talk with Nicholas, after everything.
"Ian expect you home at a decent hour, then?"
I raised my eyes to his and fixed him with a look, shaking my head. "Ian may be my twin, but he's certainly not my keeper."
Nicholas shrugged. "My mistake," he said, lifting the satchel I'd bought him for Christmas onto our table, and I gasped, noticing that he was using it for the first time. "Something the matter now?" he asked, taking note of my expression.
I shook my head at him. "No, it's just..." I bit my lip, lowering my eyes and proceeding to shove my various notes back into my own bag. "You're using the satchel I got you. I didn't realize you liked it so much."
"I thought it was time for a change."
"Oh, yeah?" I said, my tone noncommittal, as I continued to keep my eyes down. I fished my phone out of the side pocket of my bag, irritated that I had no new messages, before shoving it back inside. "How's that?"
"By replacing my old bag with my new one." He hesitated for a moment, and I could feel his eyes on me as I pretended to organize the last of my papers before I put them into my bag. "It actually belonged to my father."
"Hugo?" I asked.
"No. Henry," Nicholas replied, and, immediately, I raised my eyes to his, feeling like an idiot at just assuming it was Hugo's. "My biological father."
I gave a short nod. "He still living?"
"Died two years ago," he replied. "I was settling his estate before I came to the firm, full-time, after I graduated law school. I was only part-time, in the beginning, but after I settled his affairs so quickly, my parents decided to take me on full-time."
I nodded. "My biological mother died, a couple of years before I came here and managed to find everyone," I said quietly.
"You didn't get a proper goodbye, then?"
I sighed. "Not a proper one, I guess, no. She left me a note," I said, a small, bitter laugh escaping my lips then. "She apologized, for giving me up, essentially saying she'd given up the wrong baby for adoption."
Nicholas knit his eyes together. "Wrong baby?"
"Yeah," I said, slinging my bag onto my shoulder. "Ian isn't Frank's biological son, even though Frank raised him." I shrugged. "Guess Monica—our mom—figured out too late that I was the bio kid, and I guess wished there was a trade..."
"You think things turned out right?"
I sighed. "Honestly? Yeah. I think the best case scenario would've been if Monica hadn't dumped me into the system in the first place, and kept me with my siblings. Sure, she walked out and Frank drowned himself in alcohol, but Fiona stepped in for the rest of my siblings, and got custody of them. I think I could've done better with her as my guardian, than by putting up with the parents I ultimately got saddled with."
Nicholas sighed. "I'm sorry."
"Hey," I said, shrugging, "it is what it is. What can you do?"
"Want to get a drink?" he asked.
I felt my brows coming together then. "No funny business?"
He nodded. "Cross my heart."
"Fine," I said, walking out. "We can go to the bistro and wine bar across the street."
. . .
I felt like a creepy ex-girlfriend type over that weekend, when I finally resorted to social media stalking Josh. It was quite a surprise to me when I saw the name Chrissy Andrews popping up on a few of his feeds, and checked her out immediately. It turned out that Chrissy was one of the new doctors at the hospital, and she was actually in a lot of training sessions with Josh during the last few weeks. However, the more weeks that passed, the more intensive training got, meaning that Josh figured that he could just come and go as he pleased; and when he wasn't with me, or training, he was hanging out with Chrissy.
I may have wandered by one of their haunts—a sushi place close by the hospital—and casually walked by a few times. Staring in, seeing them laughing over chopsticks and spicy tuna rolls or whatever it is people at sushi restaurants ate, I was quick to see the way she was looking at him, and the way he was looking at her. It was the way he'd first looked at me in the early days, and the way she looked at him was a way I'd never looked at Josh, and a way I could never looked at Josh. Shaking my head, I pocketed the information and decided to take the long way home, merely to get lost in my thoughts.
I stopped at the grocery store on the way, puttering along from aisle to aisle, feeling relieved that I could wear sneakers that day, as opposed to my heels. I made a grab for a few things—boxes of pasta, cans of beans, cereal—just to hold us until mid-week. Grocery shopping, I'd found, was a relaxing way to spend your time, and it had the possibilities within it to distract you, when one of the main focuses in your life was falling apart. It wasn't the fact that I thought that Josh was cheating on me that got to me; it was all of his assurances that I was the only girl in his life that I thought back to. I mean, I'd given up my extracurricular activities with Nicholas, but now he thought he could just step out on me?
Pushing the thought from my mind, I went to the check-out counter, getting out my credit card and placing my grocery items onto the conveyer belt. I made small talk with the check-out person, and they told me to have a nice day, one I'd paid, and they'd bagged my groceries and handed over my receipt. Loading the bags into the car was another distraction, and as I continued on my drive home, I hoped that Ian would be around to help me bring them into the house and unpack them in the kitchen.
"Hey!" I said, coming into the house when I arrived twenty minutes later, and I saw Ian in the living room.
"Put those down! We're in here!" he called.
I rolled my eyes, setting down the bags and shutting the door behind me. "What's up?"
"Just, stay there," he said, and, as I looked around the couch, I saw that he was holding onto Iana's hands, which were gripped tightly to his thumbs, as she looked over at me. "Look at what this little lady can do!"
"Ian...?" I asked, lowering my eyes to my daughter.
"Iana, go to Mama, like we practiced!" he said, and took a step forward, which Iana mimicked perfectly, and so began my daughter's first steps, all the way over to me, with Ian holding her little hands.
I laughed aloud then as Iana stepped over to me, catching her up into my arms and kissing her on both cheeks, watching as Ian went into the front room, gathering up the groceries. "Well, this was certainly a good surprise!" I said with a grin.
"Yeah?" he asked, proceeding to unpack the groceries. "Sounds to me like you had a bad one today. Anything you'd like to talk about?"
I sighed. "Normally, I'd say yes, but I should probably gather more information and get back to you on that."
Ian hesitated, turning around and looking at me. "Am I going to have to punch somebody out for hurting you, Murph?"
"Hey!" I said, nodding down at Iana. "She could start talking at any minute, and we don't want her picking up anything..."
"Oh, she'll pick up something," Ian replied, an amused gleam in his eyes.
"I'm serious," I said, firmly, looking down at her. "Iana, do you want to say something to Mama or Uncle Ian?" I asked her.
Iana pressed her lips together, her brow furrowed, like she wanted to say something, and wanted to say something good. "Mmm..."
"Mama?" I asked her then, feeling pathetic as I resorted to a parenthood trope. "Do you want to say 'Mama', Iana? Say 'Mama'!"
"Mmm... Ma-ma," Iana said, her dark eyes widening then, almost as if she couldn't believe that she'd managed the feat. "Mama," she said again, raising her voice, and grinning up at me, as if she had done the impossible. "Mama!"
"Hey!" Ian said, walking over to her and grabbing her feet, which he shook in a moment of celebration and happiness. "Congratulations, Murphy—your baby said something that only 0.1% of babies say."
I turned to Ian, raising my eyebrows. "What?"
"99.9% of babies say 'Dada' first," he explained. "You didn't know that?" he asked, turning back to Iana then, looking amused, for her sake, I hoped. "Strange—seems like something Josh would've mentioned to you..."
I let out a burst of laughter then. "He tells me plenty, Ian," I said quietly, and Ian raised his eyes to mine, to attempt to figure out what I was hiding, but I deliberately kept my eyes glued to my daughter, for I didn't want to believe that any of what I assumed was happening was true, for I needed good evidence first.
. . .
It was one week later, when I still hadn't heard from Josh, that I found I couldn't stand it anymore. At first, I considered ambushing him at his apartment, but I thought that a sneaky approach would be my best bet. I placed a call to him, biting my lip as my anticipation grew, and waited, listening to the rings, wanting it not to be true...
"Hello?" answered a sprightly voice.
"Hi, I'm sorry to bother you," I said, not sounding suspicious at all. "I'm a friend of Josh's, and I was just looking for him..."
"Oh, I see," the woman replied. "I'm Chrissy."
"Oh, you're Chrissy," I said, laughing. "Nice to finally talk to you."
"Josh is asleep next to me," she said then, letting out a giggle. "For a doctor's he's a hell of a heavy sleeper," she said.
"Asleep?" I said. "Oh. I see. Well, I didn't need anything," I said quickly. "I was just calling to say hi. I'll be going now."
"Wait," she said. "Who is this?"
Quickly, I hung up the phone, not wanting to be subjected to an interrogation as I got to my feet and decided on what to do. I'd already showered and prepared for bed, so I immediately took off my pajamas and pulled on a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and a cardigan, stepping into my shoes and leaving Iana asleep in her crib. I put a baby monitor by Ian's bedroom door as I slipped down the stairs, socks and sneakers in my other hand, my phone tucked beneath my chin, and my keys inside my mouth. As I stepped outside into the cool, spring night, I quickly put on my shoes and socks, locking up behind me.
Where are you off to? came Ian's text as I got into my car.
Don't ask, I replied. Be home soon.
Driving down the road, I barely detected the cool that I felt then, wondering if such a feeling would last as I drove into the Uptown area limits. The twenty-five minutes had breezed by, and I had my heartbeat to keep my occupied as I parked across the street from the building. Getting out of my car and locking it, I pocketed my cell phone and walked through the black iron gate, making my way up to the proper door and knocking surreptitiously upon it.
When he opened it, standing there in all his handsome glory, he looked as if he would turn me away from there, but he caught my expression then, and he hesitated. He was waiting for me to speak, but then considered speaking himself, wondering if I wanted him to be the one to break the ice. When the decision was made, there was no going back, especially since I'd driven all the way over here, and things were to happen, I was sure of it.
"Murphy..."
"I'm sorry," I said quickly. "I know you thought things would be different after Charlotte passed and I'm so sorry that I couldn't just let myself..." I sighed, not getting to the place where I wanted, but also knowing that I had to press on. "Look, I just found out tonight that Chrissy, that girl that Josh is training with?"
Nicholas crossed his arms. "The one who looks like a supermodel with the I.Q. of a turkey and has no business being in a doctor's office, or a lab coat?"
I scoffed then, amused that Nicholas was aware of the notion of the domesticated turkey being a particularly unintelligent animal. "Yes, that one..."
"What about her?"
I sighed. "They're sleeping together," I replied. "I asked him about it this week, when we met for lunch, on Wednesday..."
"And?" Nicholas asked.
"The son of a bitch fucking lied," I said, throwing up my hands. "All I know is, I just wanted to see you and talk to you. But, I just..." I hopped down from the step then, shaking my head. "I don't want to bother you with something so insignificant..."
Nicholas hesitated for a moment before stepping forward, just outside the threshold. "It has to do with you, Murphy. That in itself makes it significant."
I scoffed. "Why would you care?" I whispered, feeling the hot tears escaping my eyes then. "I mean, I'm so fucked up..."
"Murphy, I'm just as fucked up as you are," he replied.
I shook my head. "The things that I've done..."
"They don't matter," Nicholas replied, stepping outside completely then and reaching out, his hand illuminated in the porch light.
I stared down at his hand for a moment, seeing it as a chance for happiness, as well as a chance for evening the score, and found myself at a loss for what to do. "Nicholas..."
"Hey, he did it first," Nicholas joked, as if we'd just had a minor playground tussle. "It's about what you want, too, you know. I know you're a go-getter in your life, Murphy. The question is, are you going to go after it?"
I raised my eyes up to his, knowing that my wall of self-containment was beginning to crumble and that, perhaps, Nicholas had the key to breaking it completely. "I'm going after it," I replied then, stepping back up then, and feeling relieved when he wrapped his arms around me, and I threw my arms around him, my heart in my throat as we kissed, and I made no moves to push him away, or to deny either of us, as he pulled me inside, slammed the door, and half-carried me upstairs to the master bedroom.
